


Fly Me to the Moon

by orphan_account



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Human!Sides, M/M, garrison!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-09-24 23:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Virgil was joining the Galaxy Garrison halfway through the year for... reasons.Keep a low profile, that had been the plan. Don't try to make friends, focus on school, don't try to make friends, focus on school.Then Remus and Dee showed up.So much for the plan.





	1. The One with Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! I've been planning to write this for a little while, and I've finally uploaded it here!! please leave kudos and tell me what you think!! constructive criticism is welcome :)

Virgil’s uniform was itchy.

That’s what he was thinking when he looked at himself in the mirror. He thumbed over the large golden circle embroidered into the fabric near the top of his right sleeve before he fumbled with the white cuffs that folded neatly over said sleeve’s orange hue. He messed around with the belt too, fidgeting and twisting it back and forth and trying to get it _just right_, whatever that looked like. In the end, it didn’t look just right, but there wasn’t much he could do about that because Patton was calling him downstairs.

“Time for breakfast, kiddo!” his warm voice snapped Virgil away from his critical analysis of himself in a rather abrupt fashion. He smoothed his hands over his orange and white uniform one more time before turning away from his reflection and ambling downstairs, where Patton was bustling about in their medium sized kitchen. His tongue poked out from between his lips as he poured a steady stream of milk into a clear bowl filled with pale cream batter. He bombarded Virgil with questions while he attacked the thick mixture with one of those funny looking metal things (whisks) that Virgil could never seem to remember the name of and the pleasant, distinct smell of pancake was diffused into the air, warm and inviting. The sound of Patton’s cat slippers slapping against their linoleum floor was almost a metronome to the room, a small slice of normalcy and familiarity in Virgil’s otherwise chaotic life, which was spiralling further and further out of control with every passing day, it seemed.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.”

“Pack your bag?”

“Yes.”

“Brush your teeth-?”

“_Yes_. Patton, lemme eat some pancakes already,” he grumbled, lowering himself into a seat at their small oaken table. He curled his toes further into his fluffy socks, and a childish part of him wished desperately that their pillowy, fleecy softness would envelop him entirely.

A soft smile was pressed into the freckled man’s features as he placed a plate of steaming pancakes, drowned in golden syrup, before him. Virgil’s pale fingers were curled around a knife and fork in an instant, already slicing up the fluffy pancakes into pieces he could munch on quietly. The dining area and kitchen was cast in a hazy, golden glow by the strips of sunlight that swept through the glass double doors that led to their garden, surrounding them in the lazy warmth of the early morning. No it wasn’t warmth… more like a comfortable light, devoid of warmth. Which was actually nice for Virgil - he’d always preferred the cold. His icy blue eyes flicked over to their fridge, where a messy collage was haphazardly fixed with cheap, colourful magnets from the dollar store: good grades, pictures from their day trip to the beach a few weeks back, Patton’s cheesy pun-inspirational-quote-combo posters, and Virgil wondered when the next time he’d see something so homey and familial again would be. He was quick to cast away the thought.

“Thanks, Patton.” he grinned up at him, cheeks full of mush. He resembled a chipmunk that had stuffed its face with food to store for later.

He laughed as he ruffled his foster son’s mop of unruly black hair, “No problem, Virge.”

Virgil frowned slowly, swallowing the pancake in his mouth in a big gulp before speaking with a thoughtful tone pressing against his words, “Do you smell… burning?”

Patton’s hazel eyes widened a fraction before the deafening sound of the fire alarm going off assaulted their ears and he was scrambling to the pan to hastily turn off the flame. The metronome became faster and sporadic. It wasn’t really a metronome any more, one could suppose.

“Virgil! Turn off the-”

“Already on it!” he called, clambering onto his wooden chair and reaching up to press the plastic white button that put an end to the achingly loud, harsh screeching of the alarms.

“Thanks, kiddo.” Patton’s easy smile immediately slipped off his face when his eyes befell the charred remains of the pancake on the pan.

“Have you got your keys?” he asked as he scraped the sad remnants of the delicious pancake into the kitchen bin. The sound was certainly grating to the ears. He allowed himself a moment of silence for the tasty treat.

“Yep,” Virgil said in between scarfing down his second pancake. He chugged back a large swig of cold orange juice.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get to your dorm and find out you don’t have them, especi-”

“Patton, I get that you’re worried and everything, but there’s no need to be.”

_Hypocrite_, a voice at the back of his head hissed.

He cringed, “You’ve already checked and double checked literally everything. You called reception three times!”

“Hey - I don’t know what their shift changes are like! They need to know you’re coming!”

“Trust me, _they know_,” he muttered before biting off another piece of pancake and chewing on it. The soft mellowness of it blended beautifully with the sweetness of the golden syrup, and for a second, it helped take the edge off the jittery nerves that threatened to swallow him whole. For a slice of a moment, he allowed himself to entertain the notion that maybe this school year wouldn’t be so bad after a- Patton jumped out of nowhere with wide, panicked eyes. He pointed his whisk at Virgil, unaware of the thick gloop that was breaking away from its skinny metal prison.

“Virge, the bus comes in 10 minutes!”

It was only when the sound of the blob of batter splattering against the hard floor rung out that he realised what happened.

“Oh gosh, how clumsy of me. I’ll have to do _batter_ next time,” he muttered as he went to get a rag from a drawer. Behind him, his foster son was panicking when he’d actually processed Patton’s words.

Virgil choked on his pancake, clumsily pushing himself away from the table and heading for his backpack, a plain black one, that lay by the door. He pulled on the uniform’s knee high black boots before swinging on his bag. In one quick motion, he turned to Patton and smiled, offering him a wave.

His foster dad had somehow pulled his phone out, snapping a picture of him mid-wave with a timid smile on his face so that it was a moment frozen in time. The picture was so… _Virgil_, he thought to himself, already deciding that it was one to be framed. As he opened the door, Patton threw himself at him in a tight hug.

“Patton, I’ve gotta…” his voice was muffled, lost in Patton’s loving squeeze.

“Alright, alright,” he said, pulling away, and Virgil pretended not to see the film of tears shining on his eyes, “Go on, then. I’ll miss you.”

Virgil forced one more smile and turned to go.

“Hey, Virge.”

The young boy stopped, but didn’t turn around. He knew what was coming.

“You know that I love you like you’re my own son, right?”

There was a pause, a moment of tense silence that was shared between them. He nodded a single time, and then he was off, jogging down the street in the hope that he wouldn’t miss his bus. He didn’t turn around. Not once. Patton sucked in a sharp breath as he closed the door behind him.

_It’ll happen one day_, he thought glumly as he made to wash the burnt pan that was still caked in the ashes of the pancake (may it rest in peace), _he’ll call you dad __and__ say “I __love__ you too.”_

***

Virgil only _just_ made it onto the bus.

He leant his head against the window, staring out at the glittering city that rushed by as the bus hovered along the road. Before long, the bustling city with its busy inhabitants and shiny shops fell behind them and the bus cruised past the city’s boundaries, breaking out into a huge expanse of desert that stretched out before them and disappeared in every direction. The sun was quick to become more intense as they crossed the hot terrain. The bus rose higher into the air in order to whoosh over a hill of the dry substance, kicking up ruddy orange sand in its wake and filling the view of the window he stared out of with a thick cloud of dust. “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” blared through his headphones as the bus left the sand cloud behind, continuing to hover toward the school and picking up speed as it did.

3 hours later, the school cut up from the horizon of the desert, a huge group of indistinct, blurry, dark shapes rising from the massive amount of sand that seemed to be everywhere. 15 minutes after Virgil first noticed the buildings, the bus finally came to a stop outside of them. He drew in a long inhale in an effort to soothe his nerves before swinging his bag onto his shoulder and getting up. He joined the steady stream of students filing out of the bus and gaped at the gargantuan building, riddled with shiny windows and covered in a sleek black material, that loomed over the bus. His anxiety was a wild animal, gnashing its teeth and flexing its claws as it tore at the inside of his chest.

He muttered a quick thank you to the driver before finally stepping off the bus that was hovering in place.

The moment his boot hit the ground, a wall of heat slammed into him, jarring enough to make him hiss at the suddenness of it. The air was so hot it was almost thick, and he was quick to march down the wide stretch of tarmac leading to the main building’s double doors. He meandered and weaved through the crowd, picking his way through tight knit groups of people and gritting his teeth as anxiety squeezed his heart. The air was electric with the sound of shouting, laughter and conversations and it was disorienting and _distressing_.

He was almost at the double doors. Just a few feet and-

Virgil tripped and fell flat on his face.

Or at least he would have if it weren’t for the strong pair of arms currently wrapped around him, keeping him suspended at an awkward angle.

He was quick to scramble away with heaving breaths, glancing up to see platinum blond hair and a face with one half that was melted by burns.

The mystery person grinned as another guy sidled up next to him, throwing his arm around his shoulder.

“Hey Remus, check it out,” the guy who’d saved him from face planting smiled widely before speaking again with an almost sinister lilt to his voice. Virgil’s heart was hammering against his ribcage as if trying to break free from its cell of bone. Virgil decided that an event like that would be traumatizing for all parties involved. Except for maybe Remus, who had a crazed look in his eyes.

The boy leant forward with a malicious smirk on his face.

“It’s the new kid.”


	2. The One Where Remus Breaks the Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil's plan not to make friends isn't working out. And on top of that, these friends don't exactly seem... what's the word?

Virgil could only stare.

His heart was thumping so hard that it reminded him of that bunny rabbit from Bambi. That was one of the only things that pierced through the numbing ringing in his ears that rendered everything else silent. Apart from his heartbeat - that was _deafening_. It was like his heart and ears were working together to make some kind of loathsome song that encompassed the overwhelming force that was his anxiety.

“-lo? I said, do you need help finding reception?” his cold blue eyes blinked and the boy swam into his vision, looking confused and more than a little aggravated at being seemingly ignored.

Virgil offered a shaky nod of his head, not trusting his voice in the slightest.

“Okay then, let’s go,” he turned, not waiting to make sure the other two were following him, and disappeared through the double doors.

***

Remus talked a _lot_.

“Did you know that spiders have 48 knees? That’s, like, 8 times the nipples of a bear!”

Virgil was too disoriented to respond, simply allowing himself to be dragged along by Remus, who’d hooked his arm around Virgil’s neck. They continued to follow the other boy, who Remus informed him was called Dee (this information was accompanied by a crude innuendo that Virgil did not respond to) down the hallway. It was a wide one, with metal panelling the floors and large metal sheets fixed to the walls, in front of which were lockers with iris scanners attached to them. Each one had a little screen showing the student’s name. Virgil marvelled at them as Remus continued to talk his ears off (in fact, he was pretty sure Remus was discussing dismemberment right in that moment) before becoming painfully aware of the frightful stares being cast in his direction. For a second, he thought they were scared of _him_ for some reason. He couldn’t understand why; he was of average height and sure, he had a resting bitch face, but that was no reason for the outright fear being directed at him. Then he realised - it wasn’t him they were scared of, of _course_ it wouldn’t be. He was new. _They were scared of Dee and Remus._

Virgil considered running away, but based on the terrified stares they were getting? He’d come to regret that reckless decision pretty soon. A large display illuminated with a scrolling list of names drew closer to them as they approached it. He felt Remus' arm tense, quietly taking note of the pointed scowl on his face before he tugged them around the incoming corner particularly harshly. Virgil didn’t have time to even begin to wonder what that was all about because they’d reached the reception… finally.

_Honestly, who designed this building?_ Virgil wondered to himself.

“New kid’s here,” Dee drawled, reaching behind him and snatching Virgil by the shoulder. He dragged him forward without so much as a glance.

“Virgil, right?”

He nodded mutely.

“Your dad called. Six times.” Remus snorted at the news before snickering shamelessly. His snickers mutated into guffaws and he nearly doubled over laughing, jerking Virgil down with him. He laughed and laughed, and didn't stop. The receptionist's face was twisted into one of confused disgust as he watched Remus spiral further and further. Virgil's face felt like it was ablaze with burning fire. In fact, his entire body did. His stomach was churning too, and he almost thought he might vomit. Somewhere, deep in the crevices of his mind, an ugly, irrational part of him was angry at _Patton_, of all people. Virgil recoiled into himself. How was he to know the receptionist would say that?

“Shut up,” Dee snapped abruptly, swatting him in the arm. Remus immediately did as he was told, falling silent and dropping his arm from around Virgil’s neck. He cricked it in discomfort. Remus' boots shuffled against the floor, but otherwise he was totally quiet, all hunched shoulders and furrowed brows. Silence fell. It stretched for a moment before the receptionist sliced through it with a clearing of his throat.

“Uhhh… I’m gonna take you to your room now,” they said slowly before doing just that.

***

“Bathroom’s over there, and your suitcases are by your bed already. You’re expected to start lessons tomorrow,” the receptionist finished briskly before hastening to leave the small double bedroom.

Virgil sighed, flopping onto his bed in the accommodation. It was simple: two single beds, bedside tables, desks, wardrobes and one bathroom. He stared outside of his window and shivered despite the lack of a chill in his room. This place was cold, but not the kind Virgil liked. This was not the first kiss of snow in Winter or the rush of a crisp, gentle breeze sweeping by in Autumn. No, this cold was a dead and chillingly empty one, like all the life had been sucked out of it in a vacuum. From his room, he could see the courtyard below. It was all concrete, metal pillars and white benches with not much else. He found himself startled at how much he already wanted to go home. He'd been there just hours before and yet he was already filled with a longing to go back.

He flipped open his suitcase and stretched his arms to prepare for the task at hand.

_First, the books_, he thought before taking the assigned books one by one. First was "The Technician's Handbook", followed by "Space Travel: A History", then "The Emmett Fyre Biography" and more related titles. Once he'd placed them all in his bedside chest of drawers, he started on his favourite technician and fiction books, the ones he read in his spare time. They mostly focused on hoverbikes, crime thrillers and horror. He was in the middle of placing one such book (titled "The Widow in the Mirror") onto his desk when his door suddenly burst open and Remus and Dee piled in. It was less "piled in" and more Remus skipping in with high pitched squealing erupting from his throat and Dee sauntering in with his hands behind his back and chin up, looking quite a bit like Draco Malfoy and acting every bit as pompous.

"Virgil!" Remus screeched happily as he entered before flopping his entire body on Virgil's bed in a decidedly sultry position. Both Dee and Virgil elected to ignore it for the sake of their mental health. The latter had gone very pale and very wide-eyed, still clutching "The Widow in the Mirror" which was _hovering_ (Patton would be so proud) next to "Hoverbikes for Dummies".

"I- you- how did you-" he sputtered out in a voice that was ravaged by croakiness - his mouth and throat had become drier than the desert they were currently in the middle of.

"With your keycard, silly!" Remus cackled as Dee got comfortable on his roommate's bed. He realized he had no idea who his roommate was.

"But-" Virgil fumbled for a moment before taking out the sleek, black card, "It's right here."

Remus blew a wild curl from his face before rolling his eyes, looking bored of the conversation. He spoke slowly, as if to a child, "I used the code on your keycard to find out your room number."

"But how did you-"

"With his master keycard," Dee cut in, running one of his fingers along the bedside table of the bed he was sat on and scrunching his nose up at the thin layer of dust that collected on his pale fingertip, "He made one."

Remus waved around what looked like an electronic dictionary with wires sticking out of it as hysterical giggles bubbled from his mouth. Virgil's head moved back and forth minutely as his eyes followed it in alarmed confusion because _he made a master keycard!?_

"I deciphered the code on those keycards too!" Virgil was still confused.

"But... how did you even know the code? The keycard was in my pocket."

"Why d'you think I was so close to you? You're insanely attractive and everything, but broody and silent isn't really my type."

Virgil was tempted to say "Your disregard for personal space", especially because he was currently rifling through his suitcase, but then the images of the terrified teenagers in the hallways flashed in his mind and he clamped his mouth shut.

"Is... is that-" the word _legal_ was on the tip of his tongue.

"Nope," Dee said simply, "Hey, is that The Widow in the Mirror? I've been wanting to order that one!"

Virgil glanced down at the book he currently he had a death grip on (it was book 6 in the series) and nodded once.

Dee was on his feet in an instant, crossing the room and snatching the book from his hand. He sat down at his desk, opening it and flipping carefully through its pristine pages. Virgil's fingers twitched - inside he was itching to tell him to be gentle, even if it was obvious that he actually was.

"Remus, check it out," Dee said to his friend, who was currently playing a violent, bloody game on his HoloPad.

Remus pressed pause, glancing upward in confusion before lowering the device. Virgil grimaced at the 3D holographic guts that were currently frozen in midair, right at the apex of their gory explosion with entrails and innards flying all over the place.

"What?"

Dee lifted the book so he could see it, and his eyes instantly lit up.

"Gee Manetti!" he yelled, rolling off the bed and landing in a heap in the floor before bouncing up like a puppy and lurching for the book.

Dee speedily stretched his arm out, keeping the book out of his reach. Remus made grabby hands at it with a pout on his face.

"Deeeee stop being a whale penis!" he whined, attempting to snatch it again.

"Whenever you touch a new book, the first thing you do is bend the spine."

"What...? No I don't!" Remus was trying very hard to be convincing. It wasn't working.

"You called it your ritual. You said if you ever got a new book and didn't bend the spine, I should assume you've been replaced with a clone and lock away your Scooby Doo memorabilia collection," he deadpanned with a blank look.

The boy slumped onto his heels, "_Fine_."

Virgil laughed quietly, making Dee turn to look at him. His gaze narrowed, turning scrutinizing, and Virgil barely resisted shrinking into himself. Instead, he used all of his willpower to look him directly in the heterochromic eyes. A long moment passed. Virgil stared. Dee stared back with fiery intensity. Remus picked his nose and licked it.

Finally, Dee's lips curled into a grin, and the thin scar stretching from the edge of his lips to his jaw bunched up a little, "You should come sit with us tomorrow."

Remus grinned, "It'll be fetch!"


	3. The One Where the Mashed Potatoes Suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> soo Virgil has friends now, whether he likes it or not. And Roman the golden boy isn't really as golden as everyone likes to make him out to be. In fact... he's kind of rude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a bit long to make up for the long time between this update and the last! <3

Virgil was having lunch with Dee and Remus. And sure, Remus kept picking meatballs from his plate and chewing with his mouth open, but it was kind of nice.

"Axel normally sits with us, but he was suspended," Dee informed him. He stared down at his mashed potatoes in unfiltered disgust. Reluctance weighed down his every movement as he scooped a bit onto his metal spoon, slowly lifting it into his mouth. The moment it was in his eyes widened minutely and a small, strangled noise left his throat. Virgil watched his facial features contort (or at least the right side of his face that was capable of doing so) into a grimace. The swallow was audible.

Virgil chewed on his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

"Revolting," Dee muttered as Remus started building... something, out of his mashed potatoes, "Just disgusting. This food should be classed as a war crime. I can't even call it _food_."

Virgil quickly learned that Dee was very dramatic. He enjoyed sticking his chin up as he walked with his hands folded behind his back, and bursting through double doors with his arms outstretched and saying things like "Self preservation is the essence of life - the only path to survival. To think otherwise is foolishness." Virgil wondered why everyone feared him so much. Dee, for all his _Dee_-ness, seemed pretty normal to him.

"I'm so glad Axel's gone," Remus sighed happily, resting his cheek on his hand. Virgil looked at what he'd built, nearly startling at the incredibly lifelike head he'd managed to sculpt from the worryingly stiff mashed potatoes. Even the hair was realistic. He twirled his butter knife between his fingers, watching the light glint off of its smooth shine, before casually smashing it into the head. That action promptly sprayed some of the yellowish gloop and caused the impressive structure to fold in on itself, "He has such a temper."

Remus? Yeah, Virgil could understand why people were scared of him.

"And _you_ always provoke him," Dee mentioned with an almost bitter edge to his voice. Remus scowled. Just 'cause it was true didn't mean he had to say it.

"Who's Axel?" Virgil inquired curiously. His anxiety had lessened now around them now that he'd been eating with them for two weeks.

They both snapped their eyes over to him and stared for a moment. The brief silence that followed was a strange one that wasn't aggressive, or tense. Just... there. Refusing to break or even bend. It had the anxiety back and crawling up his throat like a slimy presence reminding him that it was never really gone.

"Just a friend of ours," Dee finally said, sending the quiet shattering into pieces. He examined Virgil like a predator toying with prey, deciding whether it's worth it and taunting it all the while. He tilted his head, "Do you want to know how my face got burned?"

That was the last thing he'd expected him to say. Of all things, why _that_? His mind conjured up the image of Dee, smaller and weaker and afraid, surrounded by huge walls of fire that licked up the walls and closed in around his skinny frame. He screwed his eyes shut, forcing the mental picture out viciously. Just imagining it sounded traumatic, let alone having to explain it over and over again. Virgil's mind went into overdrive. Was this some kind of test? A cruel trick? Sincerity? One could never tell with Dee. Besides, why did he even need to know?

"... No. It's not really any of my business," he answered after a beat. He ate some more mashed potatoes, trying and failing to suppress a gag. He coughed, "Ack, I forgot how gross that is. It's lumpy too. How do you mess up mashed potatoes?"

"It's probably the sugar," Remus shrugged, "One of the cooks always forgets his glasses, and his eyes are _bad_ bad. Getting food is like playing Russian roulette."

Dee still had his eyes trained on him, hadn't torn away his gaze since Virgil had answered his question, "What are you studying this year?"

"Engineering, technology and coding," he pushed the plastic tray away, finally admitting defeat and surrendering.

"Same!" a grin stretched Remus' lips, "Actually, that reminds me - I need your help with something."

Virgil noticed small traces of a Spanish accent in his voice. It seemed to be especially strong when he said "something."

He slammed a different Holo Pad to the one he'd played on earlier onto the table that sported an absurd mess of wires, cables and rods sticking out of it. Dee's nostrils flared dangerously and he shot his friend a glare. The cutlery he held dug into his palms when his fists tightened into taut balls. It felt like the entire, loud, huge cafeteria dropped a few degrees.

"Remus, no."

The curly haired boy bristled, "But -"

"Remus!" he slammed his knife and fork down onto the metal surface of the table, causing a loud clanging noise that rung through the gargantuan room and had a few heads turning. Once they saw the source, they turned back around so fast they could've gotten whiplash.

Remus shrank into himself, slowly pulling the pad off the table and slipping it into his messenger bag (which was covered in obscene swear words and phrases that Remus had creatively scrawled onto there himself). His arms were laden with disappointment and shame as he took his time with zipping the bag shut. A few curly black hairs slipped into his face, and he didn't even blow them away with a sharp puff of air like he normally did, instead electing to just tuck the locks behind his ears.

"Hey, how come you're joining halfway through the last year?"

Virgil froze. All of a sudden, the room that had felt so massive before felt way too small and constricting, like it was closing in on him swiftly and determined to hurt him. His vision swam just a little as memories resurfaced.

"I-" his mouth went bone dry and his brain must have been imploding because no coherent thoughts presented themselves, "I- I... um."

He tried to swallow. Nothing went down. His throat felt like sandpaper.

"Oh no. What's he doing- what's he doing!?" At first, Virgil thought he was talking about him. He glanced up to see the boy's big brown eyes weren't looking at him at all, but behind him. Remus wasn't panicking about Virgil's mini freak out situation. He was panicking about _Roman_, who was currently striding toward them with a scowl on his face and clutching what looked like a bottle of shampoo.

His hair was also a very acidic, extremely intense shade of lime green.

"... There's two of them?" Virgil wondered aloud, entirely to himself.

"_You little shit_," Roman hissed before flinging the bottle at him full force for the entire cafeteria to see. Remus ducked quickly, with the grace of a sibling well acquainted with that sort of thing, so that the plastic tube sailed over his head and clattered to the floor.

"Hey now, let's not do anything rash, bro," Remus countered nervously, rising from his seat and stretching his arms out defensively, "Can't we talk this out..?"

Yet another silence. Roman paused, considering it for a moment. By now, quite a few people were watching with rapt attention.

"You're right. I'm sorry for throwing that bottle at you. You didn't deserve that," he sighed glumly, staring at the floor.

Remus smiled, "Oh thank God, I really thought you were goi- Aaargh!"

Roman leapt onto the table and tackled Remus to the ground as he screamed "_I was obviously lying_!"

"Roman, no!" a spectacled teen called from across the cafeteria.

"Have mercy!" Remus cried, even though he grabbed a fistful of Roman's hair and yanked it violently as they struggled on the (gross) floor. A string of Spanish curse words streamed from his mouth when his brother trapped him in a headlock in return. Virgil watched with wide eyes, casting Dee a questioning stare.

"Best not to get involved," he said nonchalantly as Mr Sanders, the principal, burst through the cafeteria doors with an entourage of teachers behind him, "You could get hurt."

Mr Sanders marched toward them, in the middle of some chastising statement when his leather shoe made contact with the plastic shampoo bottle. Virgil had seen it coming. Dee had seen it coming. The entire cafeteria had seen it coming. Heck, the half blind cook had seen it coming.

The tumble was startlingly fast - he landed hard enough to wind him. Poor guy didn't even have the time to look surprised before wheezes were ringing from his mouth.

Dee looked down at the man, who was weeping quietly, with a blank expression.

"Exhibit A."

***

Virgil and Dee were still waiting outside the Principal's Office, slumped in the rather comfy, hideously mustard yellow sofa in the hallway. Dee was boredly flipping through one of the magazines before pausing at a clean sudoku puzzle. He pulled a pen from his pocket and instantly got to work. Sudoku was one of his weird passions. They'd been there so long they weren't even trying to figure out what Mr Sanders was saying any more.

At first, he'd been sniffling and wheezing in pain in between reprimanding the two of them, but once the pain had subsided they were really in for it. Objectively speaking, the worst part had to be that he didn't shout or get angry or threaten them. He just sounded sad and dejected and disappointed, like they'd let him down. Which they certainly had, but Virgil didn't see it as such a big deal.

After all, it was just a prank.

"Finally," Dee drawled when Remus left the room a few minutes after Roman had. Virgil mindlessly watched him walk down the hallway with his hands stuffed in his pockets, mainly staring at the shock of hideous green curls that exploded from his head. His nose scrunched up. It just looked so ugly.

"Come on, Remus, we gotta go. See you tomorrow, Virge," Dee gave him an apathetic wave and the two set off in the opposite direction to his dorm.

_See you tomorrow, Virge._

None of his friends had ever called him that before.

A secret part of him kind of liked it.

***

"Today you'll be put into your new groups for the rest of the year," Mr McClain-Kogane grinned lopsidedly at the groan that swept through the class, "Yeah I know, it sucks. But when you're actually out in the field, you'll need to be able to work with everyone, not just your friends. Even people you don't like."

"You mean like how you had to work with Keith Kogane?" Joan had a shit eating grin on their face as they watched the teacher's face heat up.

"Remy, Logan and Cooper: Group 1," he choked out after clearing his throat.

The man's voice faded into the background of Virgil's thoughts as his mind wandered to his hoverbike at home that was collecting dust like a sad relic of his past. For some reason, in that moment, he yearned to feel the wind rush past his face, his leather gloves hug his fingers, his jacket billow behind him. He wanted to ride until the sky was streaked with yellows and pinks and warmth, to see the road stretch before him and disappear behind him as he tasted salty air on his tongue. He wanted to hear the quiet whirr of his engine and-

"Virge," Dee waved his pale hand in his face and the image winked out of existence, "It's you, me and pretty boy over there."

He jerked his thumb in the direction of Roman Sanchez García. The school's golden boy. Virgil had only been in the school for like, two days, but even he knew that girls were always fawning over him. He knew he was number 1 on the infamous piloting leaderboard. He was also well aware of the fact that everyone seemed to love him; excusing Dee and Remus. Roman must have sensed that he was being referred to because he saddled up to them with a pointed scowl on his face. _Charming_.

"Dee-bag," he greeted ever-so-kindly.

"_Romano_," the taller boy retorted. Roman flinched.

Oh, how he despised that nickname.

"We're group 7," he said, "You're the adviser-slash-logic person or whatever -"

Dee frowned, "I'm the aircraft's scientist. I literally make sure you don't die-"

"And you-" Roman turned to Virgil and hesitated for a split second, the tiniest of moments, before continuing, "Are the other nerd."

Virgil rolled his eyes, choosing not to dignify that one with a response.

"Group 7, you're up," the (drop dead gorgeous) teacher had his clipboard at the ready for note-taking.

The door to the simulator hissed open and they ambled up the steel ramp and into the darkness of the aircraft. The inky blackness was only broken up by a few blinking magenta lights until Roman settled into the seat. Once he had, the cockpit came to life, becoming flooded with light as Roman took hold of the controls. He was more comfortable in the pilot's seat than anywhere else in the entire world. The entire universe, even. Sappy as it sounded, it was his home.

"The gravity here is weaker than Earth's," Dee informed him, typing away on the space jet's inbuilt Holo Pad and pulling up diagrams with symbols and formulas that Roman didn't care about.

"The air isn't safe to breathe, everyone put on your helmets," he tended to take these things very seriously.

Virgil and Roman nodded, doing what they were told without argument. Virgil was running about on the ship, checking the engine, the emergency back up, the thrusters, the air supply, everything. He unscrewed the hatch to a circuit board connected to the controls and frowned.

"Hold on - don't take off," he muttered quickly. He heard Roman sigh dramatically and mumble something indignant but cast that aside.

His tongue poked out from between his lips as he carefully unplugged and corrected the red and yellow wires.

"Dee - pass me a resistor?" he reached his hand behind him without snapping his gaze away from the wall, entirely focused on the board, "A thermal one."

He felt the little black cube be pressed into his hand a moment later and fastened it to the circuit board.

"Okay, ready for take off."

"Ugh, finally, the good part!" Roman exclaimed before taking off.

"No loop-de-loops this time, Sanchez García," Mr McClain-Kogane's stern voice carried through the speakers.

The addressed boy let out a scandalized gasp, trying to mumble something under his breath but sorely failing, "_Ese cabrón_-"

"_¡Disculpe!_" the teacher sounded pissed.

Roman's eyes went wide as he dove beneath a rock arch. Remus started to laugh hysterically from outside the simulator.

"Gravity!" Dee screeched.

"Right - sorry. L-Lo siento, Mr M-McClain-Kogane," he stuttered out nervously. Even from the simulator they could hear Remus cackling like a hyena.

Roman's normally tanned skin tone had suddenly become a bit pale.

"I'll let it slide this time, but I swear to Voltron, Sanchez! I will-"

"SIMULATION COMPLETE."

Virgil burst out of the engine room covered in smudges of oily grease and panting as if he'd just sprinted a marathon.

"Air supply - vacuum - broken valves -"

"Yeah, yeah," Roman hopped out of the leather chair and cricked his back, "Doesn't matter now. Simulation's done."

Virgil's eye twitched.

Golden boy, huh?


	4. The One Where Virgil is "Scary"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil has started digging, but does he know when to stop?

It took Virgil a while to figure out that his roommate was scared shitless of him.

It turned out that having friends - specifically, having _Dee, Remus and Axel_ as friends - had its benefits. They shielded him like armour from any and all bullying, no one talked to him, and if he asked if he could sit somewhere, they scuttled away without a second thought. But _why?_ was the question. Virgil had heard snippets from hushed conversations around school, but he had yet to piece together the puzzle of the student body's fear of his friends. He felt driven to figure out what the hell was going on. And why Cooper was constantly MIA.

When he actually gave it some thought, Cooper was hardly ever in their dorm. He stowed himself away in the library or hung out with his friends for hours down in the courtyard. He went on walks in the gardens or tried out every club, as if doing everything in his power to circumnavigate their shared accommodation. Virgil would stroll through the door and Cooper would conveniently need the bathroom, or a snack from the communal kitchen, or to water Herbert, his plant which Virgil had never actually seen. Actually, he used that blatant, painfully obvious lie more times than would be considered dignified.

Cooper seemed sweet. He was quiet and gentle with a round face spattered with a constellation of freckles and eyes that were brown and bright. The way they filled with fear whenever they lay upon Virgil made his stomach twist. It stung. He felt like he was being lumped in with people who were kind to him, but not to others, and he didn't know how he felt about that.

"Hey, Cooper," Virgil greeted when he swung the door to their dorm open.

The boy, who'd been knitting a long, yellow scarf on his bed, startled. His head snapped up, eyes going wide as saucers before his hands started trembling, "Oh. Um. H-Hi. I've gotta-"

"Actually, I was gonna ask you something," Virgil cut in, slicing past whatever plant-related excuse he was planning on stuttering out.

He swallowed and lowered his knitting, "Y-Yes?"

"You wanna go for a walk?"

The question took a moment to register. When it did, confusion flooded his facial expression and he looked as if his brain was working past its limits to draw understanding from Virgil's words. Virgil, the school's brooding, scary, silent 'bad boy' (for want of a better term) and member of the 'Fearsome Four' as his friends called them, wanted to... go on a walk with him?

Anxiety prickled in Virgil's mind like carbonated water and he made a hasty attempt to back-pedal, "Unless you don't want to. It's just - we've been roommates two weeks and haven't even had a conversation with each other."

Cooper stared down at his knitting and toyed the yarn between his fingers, "You're not going to... beat me up, are you?"

Record scratch.

"_What_!?"

The short boy flinched, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry - I didn't mean... it's just that you're friends with Remus and Axel and Deceit and-"

Cooper slapped his hand over his mouth suddenly, as if expecting retaliation, but Virgil just gaped in open-mouthed silence. His words figuratively hung in the air between them. It was like he'd peeled away the first layer to the truth. Now Virgil needed more, to keep peeling and peeling until he got to the centre, until he reached the core.

"Why... why would I _beat you up_!?"

"It's what Dee makes Axel and Remus do to people who piss him off," he responded quietly, fidgeting with the scarf in his lap as he tried to make himself small.

Silence again, though not quite - the clock continued to tick, marking the incessant marching of time, a draft disturbed their thick curtains, the distant cry of some species of bird cut through the air. And yet, it felt as if one could hear a pin drop.

"Why did you call him Deceit?" Cooper didn't answer. The cracking, almost silence was verging on unbearable.

"... I'm taking a shower. And then we're going for a walk," his tone held no room for negotiation.

Already exhausted, he ran his hand over his face without bothering to see Cooper's reaction to his statement before grabbing some casual clothes from his closet and disappearing into the bathroom.

***

Virgil would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised to see Cooper still sat on his bed in a camo jacket (as it got a bit nippy at around 7:30) and his school issued boots. He'd sort of just assumed he'd make a break for it. It was a good thing he was excellent at concealing his emotions, as his eyebrows didn't so much as quirk at that unexpected development. On second thought - maybe that good-at-concealing-his-emotions trait was a bad thing?

Nahhh.

Virgil pulled his own boots on before rising to his full height and jerking his head toward the door.

"Uh... where're we going?" Cooper asked nervously as he stumbled along beside Virgil down the hallway.

"The gardens," he answered, short and curt.

"Oh."

"I've got some questions for you, Cooper."

"... Oh."

***

"Virge!" Axel exclaimed happily. He punched him in the arm in amicable fashion as he lowered himself into the chair next to him.

After a week of punching, Virgil finally didn't wince. Axel wasn't really aware of his own strength most of the time so it wasn't like he was _trying_ to hurt him. Involuntarily, his mind flashed back to the gardens yesterday and he hesitated.

"_Axel is the fiercest one. He got suspended for bruising someone's ribs._"

Virgil used to think that Axel didn't hurt him on purpose. But did he feel that way now?

"So, Virge. How come you're joining halfway through the year?"

He knew this question would come up again eventually. And he was prepared for it this time. He didn't have to tell the whole truth, just a slice of it, and he could bury the rest deep inside of him. It wasn't like its thorny vines would stretch out from the darkness in which it resided and slice at him every night before he slept.

"I... I got expelled."

Axel's eyes went wide, suddenly interested in the conversation.

"What for?"

Of course Virgil wasn't dumb enough to think that his answer would be the end of the conversation, in fact, a bold statement like that would probably attract more attention. But, for all his extensive thinking and mulling and pondering over how he'd answer, he had nothing to say. Zip. Nada. And that fact sparked panic in his chest that the growing silence was fanning into a blaze.

Dee's eyes narrowed.

"Enough about that conversation, what did you do while you were suspended?"

A small _whoosh_ of air flew out of Virgil's mouth in relief. He shot Dee a grateful look, which was dutifully ignored.

"Started learning how to cook. Looked after my brother and sister, obviously, jacked a hoverbike -"

Remus coughed violently on his mashed potatoes at that last part and Dee leant forward in his seat.

"You what?"

"Y'know, I jacked up a hoverbike," he lied smoothly before cocking it up, "For a friend. His name is Stanley-"

"We don't need details."

Virgil was suspicious. And rightfully so. There were suspicious happenings afoot. These people seemed more and more dangerous with every passing day. Chronically feared? Beating up people? _Jacking hoverbikes_?

_Stick with them_, Virgil thought, with more than a little guilt, _They'll keep you safe. No one can touch you while __you're__ with them. Student or teacher._

***

"Virge? Am I comin' through?"

Patton's voice was like a breath of fresh air. A piece of home.

"Yeah. How have you been?"

"How have I been? Forget about me, how are you?" Virgil frowned at the response, but took the bait anyway.

"I'm... good," he paused, "I made friends."

There was a fleeting silence.

"Oh! That... good! Oh gosh, I'm so pleased! I thought you were planning on isolating yourself but you put yourself out there! Great job, kiddo!" he just sounded so genuinely happy.

Virgil felt kind of guilty. That _had_ been his plan. Dee and Remus just came along and fucked it up, giving Virgil almost no say in the matter. But... Patton didn't have to know that. And he sounded so proud...

"Heh. Yeah. Thanks, Patton."

"Hey, I'm sorry kiddo but I'm gonna have to call you later, my boss is coming and technically personal calls aren't allowed. Love you, Virge! Good luck for the rest of the year!" there was a click and the line went dead. It rung and rung and then there was nothing but silence. The piece of home fizzled and dissolved into the nothing.

Virgil sighed.

The silence always caught up to him eventually.

***

On days where he was happy, Roman loved the gardens. When he felt fine, he welcomed the silence.

Especially at night, when the pale, milky moon's rays sliced through the massive slab of glass in the ceiling, casting everything in a cool tone. There were shrubs adorned in flowers of a plethora of shades - dusty pinks, shocking reds, velvety dark blues and lily whites were just a few. Explosions of petunias, geranium, chrysanthemums and fern. The earthy smell of nature that you couldn't get anywhere else in the middle of some desert in Nebraska. He walked down the cobblestone path, fingers brushing over the waxy outer layers of some leaves as he passed, breathing in the scent of the plant-life. His school-issued watch beeped, desperately screeching at him that now curfew started in _five minutes and __you're__ not in your dorm what __are__ you doi-_

His favourites were the African daisies.

They were grown special, separated from the rest in a room much warmer than the rest of the gardens. And God, they were beautiful. Some were amethyst in the middle, blending slowly into a gentle pink and bleeding out further into soft copper. The round centre of the flowers were rimmed with little yellow dots too. Some were lavender, others shades of rustic pink, and he loved every one.

The beeping turned incessant.

_One minute _ _one_ _ minute _ _one_ _ minute-_

Roman finally conceded, ducking his head and approaching the metal, sliding door. It scanned his irises and hissed open. He turned, gazing through the door's glass window with one last longing look.

When he turned, Remus was staring at him.


	5. The One Where Virgil is Sneaky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy Drew has nothing on him.

When Roman registered that his traitorous brother was stood before him, his features twisted into a scowl.

"What do _you_ want?"

Remus shifted in discomfort, eyes flicking to the watch that was now beeping one long, monotonous note. He retrieved a PocketPad, which was essentially a mini HoloPad, from his jacket.

"Gimme your watch," he muttered, tapping around on the tiny hologram before him until a blueprint of the ground floor of the school appeared.

"What? No!" Roman retorted, sounding oddly scandalized, "Who knows what you'll do to it!?"

Remus rolled his eyes impatiently as his foot started tapping against the cobblestone beneath them. The pale moon was a large eye, peering down at them and awaiting the betrayal about to unfold.

"One of the security guards is headed this way," he hissed, gesturing at the purple blinking dot that was indeed approaching the gardens, "Now _give_."

Roman did so with a dramatic sigh, watching uncomprehendingly as his brother attached his watch to the pad with a little green wire. He clicked on a button saying "GPS manip." then dragged his fingers until the hologram displayed Roman's dorm. He tapped it, and just like that, the red dot representing Roman was moving toward his dorm on the "Quick Jog" setting.

"Took me a month to get that code together," he grinned, but Roman wasn't smiling.

"What do you want, Remus?" tone clipped, eyes narrowed.

Remus' smile fell away as quickly and easily as it had stretched his lips in the first place. The twinkle in his dark brown eyes died, vanishing from existence. Quietly, he put away the PocketPad. Silence. His twin handed him his watch back and he fastened the silicon band back together, snug round his tanned wrist.

"I..." he looked nervous all of a sudden, "I wanted to give you this."

He thrust his hand forward, which clutched a little cardboard box with the words 'Hair Dye Remover' stamped into it. Roman narrowed his eyes at it suspiciously. What if this was just another trick?

"Just- take it," his tone was impatient, as was his eye roll, but the shuffling of his feet and fumbling of his fingers against his jacket betrayed him.

"Fine," he relented before snatching the box from his fingers.

He stormed past him, knocking his shoulder on the way, and made for the door to the gardens.

"We're having lasagna this weekend. Me and dad are making it together," Remus said suddenly.

That was when the tension skyrocketed, and any slight brotherly affection he'd felt for Remus disintegrated like it was sucked through a vortex.

Roman winced and his heart felt like it twisted, "Okay."

Then he was out the door.

***

  
**Virgil:** we need to talk. today at 6, at the gardens

**Beetlejuice Wannabe:** ??  
**Beetlejuice Wannabe:** ffs dee stop changing my name

**dee-bag:** Hypocrite.  
**dee-bag:** Why? What are we talking about?

** _Beetlejuice Wannabe_ ** _ has changed their name to _ ** _beetlejuice wishes he was me_ **

  
**Virgil:** you'll find out later.

**axolotl:** aight ill b thereee

**Virgil:** who messed with your username??

**axolotl:** wut

** _dee-bag_ ** _ has changed their _ _name_ _ to _ ** _Dee_ **

  
**beetlejuice wishes he was me:** nah he chose that

**Dee:** Disgraceful, I know.

**axolotl:** 🥺🥺  
**axolotl:** it sounds like axel  
**axolotl:** ..like my name

**Dee:** Get a hold of yourself.

**Virgil:** whatever. 6, gardens. be there.

**beetlejuice wishes he was me:** geez, someones feisty

_ **Virgil** _ _ has logged _ _off_

  
**beetlejuice wishes he was me:** what was that all about?

**axolotl:** wE'lL FinD OuT laTeR

***

  
"Later" had arrived.

Axel was on time, Dee was fashionably late and Remus...

"Dude, it's 6:45, what the _fuck_ is wrong with you!?" Axel exclaimed, swinging around his watch like a madman as Remus sauntered toward them. Punctuality was one of the many things Axel was... passionate, about.

"Chill out, Bruce Banner, I got held up."

"_By what-_"

"Hokay! Everyone is here now, can we move this along?" Dee cut in. The exasperation sat heavy in his tone.

Three pairs of questioning eyes were pinned on Virgil now, and he barely even felt the urge to squirm beneath their stares. He was too angry for that.

"I know you're in a gang. The Joker, the Ace and the King," he spat, jerking his head toward Remus, Axel then Dee.

Virgil wasn't really used to silence. Growing up, his house was usually shaken to the core with the sound of raging matches between his parents, doors slamming and glass smashing. Then when he was swept up by social services, for reasons he loathed thinking about, the foster home he was cooped up in was boisterous and void of privacy. It did not do his temper any favours, and soon he was adding to the messy cacophony of sound with shouts of his own. But ever since The Incident and Patton taking him in, it had been following him everywhere. Deep into the night and right into the early hours of morning, burning beneath the music he distracted himself with and waiting to plague him once it was gone. Hanging over his first few meals with Patton, where the only sound was cutlery clanging against ceramic and the occasional sip of juice. It haunted him after one of his deafening outbursts and curled in his stomach when he was alone in his dorm. Ever present, ever painful.

The Joker, the Ace and the King were silent as silent could possibly be.

Axel, who'd never been one for hiding his emotions, looked shocked and horrified. It was so obvious from his face that it was a wonder Dee and Remus even tried.

"Got any evidence for this ridiculous allegation?" Dee asked, voice level and face perfectly blank.

Virgil paused.

And then he took out 50 glossy pictures of shady dealings, sneaking around and other associates. There was also one of Axel picking his nose but that was just for fun. There were transcripts of clearly criminal conversations and HoloMap stills of them in various back alleys with three little dots representing the trackers he'd put in every pair of their shoes. They thought he visited their dorms to study? How cute.

Remus' mouth dropped open and he and Axel gaped and gaped, shellshocked. Dee, on the other hand, just scowled.

"If you plan on calling the cops, just know that we haven't actually done anything. If those scripts are even real, which you can't prove, those were just arrangements."

Virgil rolled his eyes, extracting his HoloPad and playing a video of a conversation that took place two weeks prior.

"How much are we selling them for?" clearly Remus' voice. The video, though a little shaky, showed the recognizable profile of one of the three criminals, Dee, in a dark, wet alley. He'd been filming from round the corner, trying not to get caught, so he could only push his camera out so much.

"Dunno. 4,000?"

"That's it!?" Axel.

"They're old models and they're used."

Dee hissed, "This still doesn't prove any crimes-"

"We're jacking more in two weeks," Axel again, "Isn't that when the careers fair is?"

"That's in three weeks, idiot."

The right side of Dee's face was so red it looked like he might explode in that very moment.

"What d'you want, then? Money? Need someone beat up?"

Virgil closed the video and stared Dee right in the heterochromic eyes. Eyes that were blazing with fury.

"_I want in_."


	6. The One with Lasagna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was the unloved brother from the Genesis."

**Four Months Ago**

  
_"Virgil, check it out!" Elle exclaimed as she sidled up to him. While they walked __toward_ _school, she started waving something around in his face. The day was __unusually__ sunny and hot - the sun's intense glow sat against the deep blue of the sky_. _She__ had a thing with experiencing brief, intense interests before dropping them and moving on __to something__ else. Up until last week it had been __scrapbooking__. Now it was... stationery?_

_"It's... just a pen," Virgil frowned, uncomprehending as __they_ _turned__ a corner and the small school cut into their __field__ of vision._

_Elle rolled her eyes before slipping it into his pocket, "__I_ _accidentally_ _ordered__ two, so __it's your__ lucky day."_

_She started rambling about something but Virgil __wasn't__ listening __any__ more, just focused __on getting__ through the second week of school. He'd ask __about__ her new interest later, when exhaustion __wasn't_ _turning__ his brain to sludge._

**The Present Day**

Virgil was The Jack.

Personally, he found the card names stupid but he certainly wasn't going to say anything about it. Deceit was explaining his role in their plan while he picked at some flaking wood in their table, tucked away in a seldom visited nook of the library.

"Can you do it?"

He didn't want to, but he could, "Uh..."

"Remus looked at your original application, so don't lie to me."

He exhaled heavily through his nose, "Yeah, I can do it. With help."

"Go to Roman, he's the best one in school."

Virgil groaned at the thought of that pompous, rude, self-centred asshole teaching him and his head hit the table with a dull thud.

"He's a jackass, but he's a talented one. He hangs around the African daisies most nights, so ask him then," Dee tugged at his gloves and rose from the table briskly as he talked.

"Hold on- how do you even know that?"

Deceit tucked his hands into his pockets and turned to him, platinum blond hair shifting as he did. He was actually achingly handsome, which people in school would realize if they weren't so focused on the left side of his face: a mess of mangled skin that was patchy red and hard. If they bothered to talk to him, they'd know he couldn't even see out of his left eye. Its iris was grey - a stark contrast to the dark brown of his other one.

"Remus tells me everything," he shrugged before sauntering off like he knew he was better than everyone – which he was. They knew it, he knew it, everyone knew it.

Virgil sighed and pushed himself away from the table. He knew for a fact that he didn't have to do this. Sure, it'd speed things along, but Remus would throw something together given enough time. This wasn't because it was necessary – it was a test of loyalty.

Virgil planned on passing with flying colours.

***

  
Dinner at the Sanchez García house never used to be this tense.

Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez García were sat at opposite ends of their long, oaken table. A rare occurrence for such busy people. Roman and Remus faced each other, both determinedly avoiding eye contact, and none of them uttered a word. The minutes ticked by. Their mother, Valeria, was careful and methodical as she sliced her lasagna into steaming pieces, chewing them quietly and politely. It was a wonder that she raised Remus, who ate with his elbows on the table, tomato sauce smeared all over his face and chewed loudly with thick swallows. While Matias and Valeria didn't seem to mind his... uncouth approach to his dinner, Roman was moments from snapping. Matias checked his phone, Valeria glanced over a newspaper and Roman's Polo Ralph Lauren slippers were tapping furiously against the marble floor.

Remus' fork scraping awfully across his plate was the figurative straw that broke the horse's back.

"_Remus_!" he shouted, and Matias jolted in his seat, earning him an amused smile from Valeria.

His brother looked up from his slurping with wide, startled eyes and half a lasagna sheet hanging from his mouth.

"Uh huh?" it came out muffled. Roman's nose wrinkled at the clump of meat crawling down his cheek before it landed in his plate.

"Stop. It," it took a lot of effort to keep his voice even as he forced it through his gritted teeth.

Remus tilted his head like a puppy, "Stop what?"

"Eating like an animal!"

The lasagna sheet fell from his mouth.

"Um, rude much!?"

"That's rich coming from you! You're eating like a pig."

"I don't care!"

"Boys," Matias started with warning in his tone, but they were on a roll now.

"Of _course_ you don't. You don't care about _anything_ or _anyone_ but _yourself_!" what the fuck did he say that for? They were fighting about _lasagna_.

Lasagna that his dad didn't invite him to cook.

And here Roman was thinking he was over that.

"Listen here, asshole-"

"Enough," Valeria snapped suddenly, and the two fell silent. "Remus, eat quieter."

"But-" her glare cut him off.

"Roman, _think_ before you speak."

Dinner at the Sanchez García house used to be happy.


	7. The One Where Logan Just Wants to Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is soo shit but i needed to post something cause it's been ages 🙃

The leathery texture of the throttle lever rubbed against Virgil's fingers as he jerked it backward.

The simulator jolted back, narrowly dodging a violent jet stream of toxic gas from one of the geysers that riddled the virtual planet's rough, strikingly red surface. How long had Virgil been here for? Way longer than he meant to, but he'd kiss a girl before he let Roman tutor him. He hissed at the simulator hitching upward when a 'stream' slammed against its bottom. Slowly, he eased back the joystick to steepen the angle of the ship's ascent into the atmosphere. All he had to do was get to that arch, then the level was over and he'd be done for the day - or evening as his watch informed him via a beep. The news that he'd been there for hours was like a slap to the face. And he was so tired. His eyelids were drooping...

**LEVEL 17 FAILED**

  
The statement flashed before his eyes and he slumped in frustration. Despite a visceral urge to try again and keep trying until he beat this God-forsaken level, he'd had enough for today and stormed off the simulator and across the hangar. As he was crossing though, he paused. He could've sworn he'd heard something like the subtle shifting of boots against the floor. His eyes scanned the massive hangar, the rows of clunky simulators, the gargantuan black walls, the thick metal pillars that someone could easily hide behind... The moment stretched on but there was nothing - no sound, no movement. Just silence.

With a shrug, he brushed it off and jogged out of the hangar. It was almost curfew, who'd be in the hangar of all places?

***

  
"Axel, what the hell."

The boy in question spun round with wide eyes and a face smeared with flour. He glanced down at his batter then up at Virgil, who didn't look so much surprised as he did fucking exhausted. They stared at each other from either side of the marble island in their floor's communal kitchen, silent and waiting for someone to dissipate the awkwardness hanging over them like a gas. Virgil was thinking about how much he wanted to shuffle off to his dorm room, but his friend's weird behaviour was enough to make him stick around a while longer.

"Pancake?" Axel finally came out with, nodding his head toward the already substantial pile sitting on a plate on the shiny surface between them.

Virgil glanced down at them then back at Axel with something indecipherable in his gaze. He dodged the question, instead responding quietly: "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Sorry, I tend to stress bake." Axel averted his brown eyes sheepishly before turning to the pan and flipping the pancake that sizzled on it.

He heard the sounds of shuffling behind him, a cupboard being opened, closed, and a ceramic plate making contact with the island with a soft clinking noise.

"Got any golden syrup?"

He turned to see Virgil sat on a bar stool by the island and a plate buried beneath three large pancakes before him. What? He was hungry, okay?

\---

  
"How come you're stressed?" Virgil inquired between chews moments later–after Axel had rummaged around in a low cupboard for a few seconds before triumphantly retrieving a plastic bottle of sticky golden syrup.

Axel shrugged, instantly embarrassed, "Just... stuff."

Virgil wasn't one to push and Axel wasn't one to share. And so they sat in silence, this one more comfortable than the last, and shared pancakes together in the dark, lit only by the single light hanging above them. They were just two friends–two children–with noisy heads and silent mouths.

***

  
"I don't see what this has to do with me," Logan sighed as he flicked a page in The Widow in the Mirror, "Tch, none of this makes any sense. You'd think there'd be a semblance of internal coherence."

"... Right," Roman said slowly before barrelling on, "What reason does a technician have to be in the flight simulator? And so late?"

"You tell me, Agatha Christie," he muttered as he took his red pen out and underlined yet another nonsensical passage of the book. He pondered a moment. Yep, that one deserved a post-it note too.

"I just think it's suspicious!"

"Roman," Logan sighed, closing his book and pushing his glasses up his nose, "I assure you that we will discuss this... phenomenon... tomorrow. But it's late, and let's not forget that _you_ were at the simulator late at night too–"

Roman grumbled, "Yeah well I'm the best pilot in school–"

"Ah-ah. I am tired, you are tired. And now," Logan kicked off his unicorn slippers and ambled across the room before settling into bed, "I'm sleeping."

"Fine, you coward. Sleep like the fickle being you are. I shall toil and dig until I have answers!" Roman whispered beneath his breath.

Logan's sheets shifted.

"I can hear you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next one should be a long one!!


End file.
